Hunting Hounds
by RoseandFeather
Summary: Starts S4E1. Non-Canon. OFC? i guess... What if there was assistance? Rating will probably change. NoPairingsYet. No OFC Pairing


Disclaimer: Don't own, don't profit

Begins Season 4 Episode 1 Lazarus Rising

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Pure darkness was all that existed in the spaces between. Endless nothing. A small, bright light streaked through the darkness, a soul pulled from one realm to another. The soul crashed in the wall of the pulling realm with a flash of light that briefly lit up both sides before returning to the endless darkness of the space between. And beyond the wall of the realm...

A dog sat up in a field and shook the stiffness from it's limbs. It was a great beast of a thing, tattered red-black fur covered a gaunt frame that stood just over half the height of a horse. Massive paws the span of a man's head rubbed the large ears and fiercly toothed muzzle of the beast in an effort to rid of the fog that had it dizzy. A final headshake and the Beast stood and looked around.

'Trees... fields... road... more fields...' The Beast snorted in dismay before wandering towards the road and following it in a random direction.

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The day was on of those overly-hot, hazy days. Dean ambled wearily along the hot road towards the run-down gas station. Upon reaching the locked door he began to bang for attention.

"Hello?" he called in a dry, hoarse voice.

No one answered and after a quick scout around the building Dean determined that it was closed or abandoned. He rolled up his outer shirt on his right hand and broke the glass of the door, reaching inside and undoing the lone lock. Dean quickly staggered inside out of the heat and found some of the stock had been left behind. Opening one of the silent, warm fridges he gulped down almost a full bottle of water before gasping for air. A further search of the store revealed very little edible food but a recent newspaper. The date read Thursday, September 18th.

"September..." murmured Dean distractedly.

After a few moments to pull himself together Dean made his way into the station's bathroom. Turning on the grimy tap he made sure the water ran clear before splashing his face and rinsing off some of the dirt and dust he had accumulated. Taking a moment to enjoy the cleansing of the cool water Dean then turned his attention to his reflection in the mirror. He noted he was wearing the same as when he died with presumably a different t-shirt. With a quick, calming breath he lifted his t-shirt to expose his chest

_Flashback_

Dean screamed in fear and agony as the sharp claws razed through the flesh of his chest.

_End Flashback_

Dean stared at his perfectly unblemished chest in the dingy gas station mirror. A twinge from his left shoulder had him pulling up his sleeve to reveal a large, red-raw brand in the shape of a handprint on his shoulder. He stared in bewilderment at the brand for a few minutes before making his way back into the station shop to take advantage of the available food. He grabbed a plastic bag and stuffed it with snacks and energy bars along with several bottles of water. Stopping in front of a magazine rack he grinned and picked up a glossy copy of 'Busty Asian Beauties'. He briefly flipped through it before putting that in the bag too. Dean made his way over to the check-out counter, set the bag down and hit a button on the register. He snapped his fingers gleefully when it sprang open with a ping. As he was looting the cash, a tv to his left flickered on, bursting out with white noise and static. He wearily turned it off; only to have a radio to his right flared to life in a scream of white noise. Not wasting a moment, Dean grabbed a carton of salt from a shelf and began pouring it along the nearest windowsill. He hadn't even finished the first window before shrill tone began, forcing Dean to clutch his left ear in pain whilst trying to finish salting the room one-handed. The noise rose in intensity causing Dean to drop the salt and just crouch on the floor holding his head, groaning in pain. The window above his head shattered, Dean flinching closer to the gas station floor. He leapt to his feet to try and escape and after a few more pieces of glass breaking the sound stopped, leaving Dean to look around the mess cautiously before making his way out to the forecourt.

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The phonebooth next to the parking area thankfully worked and Dean inserted some of the filched cash, dialling a familiar number.

An alert tone answered him.

"We're sorry. You have reached a number that has been disconnected." The female recording calmly informed him.

Dean hung up quickly and inserted another coin, dialling another known number. It rang once before being answered.

"Yeah?" The gruff voice growled over the line.

"Bobby?" Dean asked hopefully.

"Yeah?" Bobby replied warily.

"It's me." Dean informed Bobby with relief.

"Who's 'me'?" Bobby barked out.

"Dean." replied the young man.

The dial tone sounded. Dean's eye briefly twitched before he hung up and redialled.

"Who is this?" Bobby voice growled.

"Bobby, listen to me" Dean pleaded.

"This ain't funny. Call again, I'll kill ya!" Bobby snarled before slamming the phone down.

Dean sighed quietly and hung up on the dial tone. He glanced over the forecourt to an old, beat-up white car parked up. A gleam entered his eyes and he strode purposefully towards it. Movement through the nearby shrubbery drew him up short and reaching for anything that could be a weapon. At first it just seemed like a dog but it's full size was revealed as it stepped out the the bush.

The thing was huge, that was Dean's first thought, his second was recognition.

"Hellhound..." he croaked in disbelieving horror.

The Beast turned it's great, shaggy head towards him and barked, that echoing, soul-piercing bark. Dean shuddered down to his boots at the sound and was frozen as the Beast padded towards him on massive, silent paws. In a moment the Beast was close enough for him to feel it's warm, damp breath, strangely not as fetid as he remembered from his death. Dean was baffled when the Hellhound just licked his face with a huge, slobbery tongue, gave a quieter bark and lay down at his feet, looking up at him with large, shiny blood-red eyes.

"Uh..." Dean choked out "Good boy?"

The Hound huffed and shook it's head.

"Good girl?" He asked hesitantly.

The Hound chuffed happily and very clearly nodded. Dean felt slightly faint as he slowly reached a hand towards the Beast. It, She, stayed perfectly still as he gently patted her on the head like it was a common but scary dog. The She-Beast's tongue lolled out of her mouth happily and she rolled onto her side as an invitation for a tummy-rub. Dean found the corner of his mouth quirking into a grin as he tentatively obliged the Hound. After a moment getting aquainted with one another the old, white car was hotwired and the strange pair continued down the road together, Dean entirely unsure of what to make of an apparently friendly Hellhound.

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Bobby grumbled as he hauled himself out of his favourite seat at the pounding on the door. Upon opening the door he found something that lookied like Dean, who smiled cautiously at him. Bobby frowned at him suspiciously.

"Surprise" Dean said weakly.

"I, I don't..." Bobby was unsure how to respond to that.

"Yeah, me neither" Dean replied casually as he strode into the open doorway. "But here I am."

Bobby had been slowly pulling a small silver knife out of his waistband and lunged at the Dean-lookalike as soon as he was within range. Dean grabbed his arm and twisted it behind Bobby's back, who proved to still be spry as he immediately broke the grip and backhanded the possible monster.

"Bobby! It's me!" Dean yelped as he avoided the older hunter's slashes.

"My ass!" snarled Bobby, continuing his attack with fervor.

Dean quickly shoved a chair between himself and Bobby.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, wait! Your name is Robert Steven Singer. You became a hunter after your wife got possessed, and... you're about the closest thing I have to a father. Bobby. It's me." He tried desperately.

Bobby lowered the knife and slowly stepped towards Dean. He gently placed his hand on Dean's shoulder for a second, before surprising Dean with another slash of the knife. Dean quickly subdued and disarmed the old hunter.

"I am not a shapeshifter!" Dean growled.

"Then you're a Revenant!" Bobby yelled in reply.

Dean shoved Bobby away from him, keeping hold of the silver blade in his right hand.

"Alright. If I was either, could I do this – with a silver knife?"

Dean rolled up his sleeve and cut a line of blood above his elbow with a grimace.

DEAN rolls up his left sleeve, and, grimacing, slices his arm above the elbow with the knife. A line of blood appears.

"Dean?" Bobby asked hopefully.

"That's what I've been trying to tell you." The younger hunter replied happily

Bobby's composure broke and he grabbed Dean up for a tight hug. Dean returned the hug with enthusiasm, relief clear on his face. They pulled apart after the man-meter said it had been long enough.

"It's... It's good to see you, boy." Bobby told Dean with a grin.

"Yeah, you too." Dean returned with an answering grin.

"But... how did you bust out?" The older hunter asked.

"I don't know. I just, uh, I just woke up in a pine box..."

Bobby sudenly splashed water in Dean's face, holy water, Dean guessed as he spat some water out.

"I'm not a demon either, you know." He grumbled.

"Sorry. Can't be too careful." Bobby shrugs sheepishly.

They continued further into the house, Bobby handing Dean a nearby handtowel which he dried his face with. They sat together in the study and Dean told Bobby about what had happened.

"But... that don't make a lick of sense." Bobby exclaimed after he had finished his tale.

"Yeah. Yeah, you're preachin' to the choir." Dean snorted.

"Dean. Your chest was ribbons, your insides were slop. And you've been buried four months. Even if you could slip out of hell and back into your meat suit-" Bobby began.

"I know, I should look like a Thriller video reject." Dean interrupted with a slight chuckle.

"What do you remember?" Bobby asked carefully.

"Not much. I remember I was a Hellhound's chew toy, and then... lights out. Then I come to six feet under, that was it. Sam's number's not working. He's, uh... he's not..." Dean was too afraid to ask but Bobby understood.

"Oh, he's alive. As far as I know." the old hunter replied with a huff.

"Good... Wait, what do you mean, as far as you know?" Dean's muscles tensed in concern and fear.

"I haven't talked to him for months." Bobby admitted.

"You're kidding, you just let him go off by himself?" yelled Dean.

"He was dead set on it." Bobby snapped back.

"Bobby, you should've been looking after him."

"I tried. These last months haven't been exactly easy, you know. For him or me. We had to bury you."

"Why did you bury me, anyway?" Dean asked after a moment.

"I wanted you salted and burned. Usual drill. But... Sam wouldn't have it."

"Well, I'm glad he won that one." Dean laughed dryly.

"He said you'd need a body when he got you back home somehow. That's about all he said." Bobby muttered shamefaced.

Dean's eyes narrowed.

"What do you mean?"

"He was quiet. Real quiet. And then he just took off. Wouldn't return my calls. I tried to find him, but he didn't want to be found." Bobby's tone pleaded with Dean for forgiveness.

"Oh, damnit, Sammy." Dean muttered angrily.

"What?" Bobby asked worriedly.

"Oh, he got me home okay. But whatever he did, it is bad mojo." Dean growled.

"What makes you so sure?"

You should have seen the grave site. It was like a nuke went off. And then there was this... this force, this presence, I don't know, but it, it blew past me at a fill-up joint. This wierd brand on my shoulder," here Dean lifted his sleeve to show Bobby who hissed in shock at the sight of the brand. "And the friendly Hellhound I left sat outside"

"What in the hell?" Bobby yelped, standing rapidly.

"It was like a demon just yanked me out. Or rode me out." Dean continued, trying to ignore the Hellhound part.

"But why? What? Hellhound?" Bobby was seriously confused and almost vibrating with tension.

"To hold up their end of the bargain, and I met her, the Hellhound at the gas station"

"You think Sam made a deal." Bobby asked weakly, for now joining Dean in ignoring the Hellhound in the front yard.

"It's what I would have done" Dean replied matter-of-factly.

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Dean and Bobby were peering through the fly-screen door at the large, placid Hellhound that sat at the bottom of the porch stairs, wagging it's tail as it focused a canine grin their way. The two hunter's exchanged a look before Dean slowly pushed the door open. The Hound tilted her head in curiosity after a few moments of no one doing anything.

"Uh, hi..." Dean paused as the Hound yipped in reply "I'm Dean Winchester" another yip "and this is Bobby Singer" and again "Okaaay... you know us?"

The Hound nodded.

"Um, yes or no questions i guess... Are you going to kill me? Or any human?" Dean asked the Hound warily.

The Hound shook her great head slowly then carefully trotted up the stairs towards the door, keeping her body in a low, submissive posture. Dean and Bobby both took a step back before remembering their courage.

"Are you housetrained?" was Bobby's most pertinant question.

The Hound actually seemed shocked before nodding with a chuffing, canine laugh as she brushed passed them into the house.

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"Yeah, hi, I have a cell phone account with you guys, and uh, I lost my phone. I was wondering if you could turn the GPS on for me" Dean charmed over the phone "Yeah. Name's Wedge Antilles" Pause "Social is 2-4-7-4" Another pause "Thank you"

Dean hung up the phone and crossed over to the laptop on the table.

"How'd you know he'd use that name?" Bobby asked in amazement.

"You kiddin' me? What don't I know about that kid?" Dean smirked.

Dean quickly typed in the details on the ARC Mobile website and glanced around while he waited for it to load. He picked up on of the empty liquor bottles littering Bobby's house.

"Hey, Bobby? What's the deal with the liquor store? What, are your parents out of town or something?" he changelled jokingly.

"Like I said. Last few months ain't been all that easy." Bobby replied defensively.

Dean held his gaze for a moment, concern warring within him.

"Right." he said shortly.

The Hound grumbled from her spot on the rug making the two men twitch briefly as they reigned their instincts. Benifit of the doubt and all.

The laptop beeped shrilly; the display showing a city map witha blue arrow pointing to a star. The locator read:

Phone Location:

263 Adams Road

Pontiac, Illinois.

"Sam's in Pontiac, Illinois" Dean affirmed.

"Right near where you were planted" Bobby added

"Right where I popped up. Hell of a coincidence, don't you think?" Dean replied with a grimace of worry.

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It was night when the two hunters and one Hound pulled up at the Astoria Motel. After a quick check of the open log in the thankfully empty registration office they made their way down a dingy hallway to knock on number 207, the number inside a cheesy, red heart. The door was almost immediately opened by a hot, young, brunette woman wearing only a tank top and underwear. She looked at them expectantly and, both hunters reckoned, condescendingly.

"So where is it?" she snaps out.

"Where's what?" Dean asks after a confused glance at Bobby.

"The pizza... that takes two guys to deliver?" she sneers.

"I think we got the wrong room" Dean began.

The Hound, which had been catching up after a leisurely sniff around the hallway, was pushing between the two hunters, growling at the woman. The bossy woman went pale, backing away from the Hound.

Sam suddenly stepped into the light of the doorway in a simple grey t-shirt and jeans.

"Hey, is..." Sam stopped dead in his tracks as he took in the sight of the huge dog, Bobby and finally Dean. Dean who was dead. He swallowed, shocked, his throat suddenly dry, eyes flicking between the three with one brief glance at the woman who was still staring at the Hound, almost inhumanly pale.

"Heya, Sammy" Dean grins, overflowing with a mushy, sentimental feeling.

Sam stays quiet as the dog leads the way into the room for the three causing the woman to step back. Once they are inside the Hound plants herself between the two duos in the meeting, glaring at the woman who Dean didn't know. The Hound glances at Dean sharply when he moves towards his brother and somethng about the look makes him stop out of arms length of Sam.

"Sam" he begins hoarsly.

"Who are you?!" yells Sam, a silver hunting knife in his hand coming from behind his back.

"Like you didn't do this?!" Dean yells in reply.

"Do what?!" more yelling from Sam

"It's him. It's him. I've been through this already, it's really him" Bobby reassures Sam gently.

"What..." Sam's astonishment makes him relax his grip slightly on the knife.

Dean approached Sam cautiously, highly aware of the knife in his brother's hand.

"I know. I look fantastic, huh?" he jokes.

There is a tense moment before Sam's eyes well up and he pulls Dean into a desperate hug. The air is heavy with emotion and Bobby looks on with tears in his eyes before the Hound suddenly chuffs angrily, reminding them of her and the woman's presence, as well as the Hound's murderous glare towards the petrified young woman.

"Hey! Dean! What's with the monster-dog?! It's scaring her!" Sam shouted as he skirted around the Hound towards the woman's side.

"Hey! Er... Hound, stop that!" Dean admonished hesitantly.

The Hound barked angrily but lay down submissively none-the-less. The youngs woman snapped out of her fearful trance and gave Sam an incredibly strained grin

"I... I gotta go" she stammered.

"Yeah. Yeah, that's probably a good idea. Sorry" Sam replied cagily.

She dashed into the bathroom and emerged within a minute, fully dressed before hurriedly leaving the room, avoiding the Hound. Sam watched her go in astonishment before pulling on a white shirt and facing Dean and Bobby. They were looking warily between him, the dog and the door.

"So what's with the dog?" Sam bit out.

"What's with the chick?" Dean retorted automatically.

"She's no one" Sam snapped.

"The Hound's a friend, I guess" Dean hedged "So what'd it cost you?"

"The girl?" Sam smiled benignly "I don't pay, Dean"

His smile twitched out of place for a second when the Hound growled from near their knees.

"That's not funny, Sam. To bring me back. What'd it cost? Was it just your soul, or was it something worse?" Dean snarled.

"You think I made a deal?" Sam turned to Dean in honest astonishment.

"That's exactly what we think" Bobby cut in.

"Well, I didn't" Sam replied with a frown.

"Don't lie to me" Dean stared intensely at Sam.

"I'm not lying" stated the younger brother.

"So what now, I'm off the hook and you're on, is that it? You're some demon's bitch-boy? I didn't want to be saved like this" Dean ranted.

Sam stood up angrily.

"Look, Dean, I wish I had done it, all right?" he snapped.

Dean grabbed Sam by his shirt, ignoring the curious rumble from the Hound.

"There's no other way that this could have gone down. Now tell the truth!"

Sam shoved Dean's hands away in irritation

"I tried everything. That's the truth. I tried opening the Devil's Gate. Hell, I tried to bargain, Dean, but no demon would deal, all right? You were rotting in Hell for months. For months, and I couldn't stop it. So I'm sorry it wasn't me, all right? Dean, I'm sorry" he confessed.

"It's okay, Sammy. You don't have to apologize, I believe you" Dean relented.

"Don't get me wrong, I'm gladdened that Sam's soul remains intact, but it does raise a sticky question" Bobby broke in.

"If he didn't pull me out, then what did?" Dean realised.

The Hound chuffed happily drawing curious looks from the three hunters.

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Okay, tell me what you think please


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